


Twirling Daisies

by teaspurr



Category: Original characters - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Camp Half-Blood, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspurr/pseuds/teaspurr
Summary: Claude tells his mother, Aphrodite, about the boy he's going to marry.
Relationships: claude laurent/matheus durand
Kudos: 3





	Twirling Daisies

'I’m gonna marry him.'

The words were bold and true. Claude didn’t even bother to look up from the daisy he was fiddling with. His mother, sitting by the boy in the soft grass, her own sky shaded eyes on the flower that twirled in Claude’s dainty, little fingers. He was still so young, barely in his teens, and yet he sounded so sure of himself. 

' _And how do you know that?'_ Her voice came like a Summer breeze, causing the golden thread of her son’s messy hair to dance and sway. He smiled. 

'Because I do,' it was simple enough, his voice as light and airy as Aphrodite’s own. 

'I know it like the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. I know it like pretty words and how Spring always brings the best flowers. I know it like how his eyes have four different shades of brown in them, and sometimes when the sun shines in them just right, you can see gold too.' 

Words as fact, Claude threaded the single daisy into the crown rested on his lap, filling it slowly with the best ones he could find. He picked another. 

'I know it like how the tide always comes in with the moon and how home-knitted mittens are always the warmest.'

His mother smiled, ' _do you love him?'_

Focus on the finished crown as he lifted it to his hair, Claude turned his smile to his mother; so bright and beautiful, anyone could be sure the light of day had been brought with it. He laughed a little at her words, a giggle that had him screwing up his freckled nose, his stomach fluttering with the biggest butterflies the world had ever known. 

_Did he love him?_

'Like the sun.'

Appropriate, his mother thought, though it wasn’t quite the answer she had expected - nor wanted. 

' _Like the sun? What does that mean?'_ Gentle fingers brushed past golden locks, pushing Claude’s hair away from his eyes. Claude hadn’t thought that far ahead. 

Those same eyes turned out over the lake, searching for some kind of answer as the ripples met the bank. 'It doesn’t make sense… does it?'

His voice fell quiet again for a moment, thinking, thinking, thinking. 

'He’s… like the sun,' Claude finally spoke, words sounding almost unsure. He looked back to his mother as if her expression would hold some sort of confirmation; but she sat there, watching him with those expectant eyes. Claude thought himself speechless. 

'He’s like the sun… Flowers grow when he smiles. The Earth wouldn’t be whole without him. I wouldn’t be whole without him.' There was another momentary pause as Claude tried to string the words together like poetry in his mind. None would ever seem adequate enough. 

The woman could tell he was struggling to find the words, watching the cogs turn behind his eyes. 

' _How do you know?'_ Perhaps that question would be easier to answer, although it only had Claude looking up to her again. 

'I just do,' he stated simply with a small roll of his shoulders, picking another daisy from by his side. 'I feel it right here' his hand came to his chest, patting over his heart. 'It gets all tight and fuzzy, and it feels like I’m going to throw up but then I don’t and I can’t stop smiling and when he laughs I want to die.' 

Claude laughed then at his own words. He was sure he sounded so silly, but it was the truth. Nothing felt sweeter than what his love did to him, and the mere memory of his laughter left the blond boy feel weak in the knees. He was in love, and there was no greater feeling in all of the world. 

He spun the little daisy between to fingers, mind caught between images of hands reaching in the dark of the camp-light and wide laughter of the morning. Whispers shared by the fire and a rose left on a pillowcase. 

Claude drew in a deep breath. 

'Do you think he could love me too?'


End file.
